Stunning
by Spun
Summary: Everybody gets dressed up and sexual innuendo goes right over Alec's head. "So, I have to ask. Who's the girl in this relationship?" Pretty much pure fluff.


**Stunning**

(yeah, I'm trying to see if I can set a record for coming up with the most uncreative titles ever)

**Disclaimer: **If I had _Mortal Instruments_, I would also have a lot of money. Tragically, I have neither of these things.

**Warnings: **Nothing in particular.

**Notes: **I had a couple of things on today's agenda – shower, brush the tangles from my hair, clean my room, pack up my stuff so I'll be ready to leave university tomorrow.

This is the only thing I got done.

I finally gave in and read _Clockwork Angel_ a few days ago. I thought it basically sucked, but there's a small reference to it in here anyway. :) Consider this fic your fluffy, plotless, unrevised holiday present.

* * *

"I feel ridiculous," Alec complained.

Without even sparing him a glance, Magnus said, "But you look _stunning_," and expertly knotted his tie.

"I don't want to look stunning. I want to look like me. I am not stunning."

Magnus rolled his eyes at his reflection and switched off the overhead light with a twitch of his finger. "I beg to differ."

"You always do," Alec muttered. Magnus exited the little bathroom to find he hadn't moved from the spot he had chosen ten minutes ago – curled up at the foot of his bed, absent-mindedly plucking the strings on his violin. He'd been playing earlier while Magnus was in the shower. Magnus had recognized the pretty, haunting tune and was involuntarily reminded of a different boy, this one frail and ethereally pale but just as talented, before he turned up the water pressure to drown the sound out.

Now, though, he wasn't thinking of anyone but Alec as he sat down next to him. What Magnus had said was true, he _did_ look stunning. Good genetic material and a significant other who didn't dress monochromatically was a powerful combination.

The situation was this – today was Robert and Maryse's twentieth anniversary. Magnus had heard a few things pertaining to the occasion in the three months he'd been dating their son, but hadn't thought much of it until last week, when Alec told him that he could come to dinner with them, if he wanted to. Apparently, they'd invited Clary first, because she practically lived with them now. Then they decided it would only be fair to allow Alec and Isabelle to bring someone along as well. It was usually just a family thing, Alec had said, but he thought maybe his parents wanted more people to come this time so Max's absence wouldn't be as obvious. After hearing that, Magnus couldn't refuse even if he'd had reason to. "Thursday night?" He had asked, twirling a few strands of Alec's hair around his thumb. "I'll be there. Just tell me what to wear."

"I'll have to ask Izzy." Alec knocked his hand away. "She's the one who knows these things."

Alec forgot to ask. In his defense, catching the flu and having a one-hundred-four degree fever was a good excuse for not remembering your own _name_, much less not remembering to find out the dress code for a particular restaurant. And Magnus, whose typical first reaction to receiving an invitation was to start planning his outfit, stopped caring about three seconds after Alec threw up on his bathroom floor.

Then Isabelle had called yesterday during lunch, reminded them of the upcoming dinner, and practically _begged_ for Magnus' help.

"Look, it's nothing _fancy_," she'd said. "Shirt, slacks, tie. I don't think he owns anything like that, though – usually we let him get away with the jeans-and-sweater thing, but it's their twentieth, it's kind of a big deal. I want things to go perfectly, all right? It'll be nice if we all look classy and put together. I'm dragging Jace and Clary out later and dressing them up if I have to handcuff them to do it."

"I wouldn't," Magnus advised. "They'd probably enjoy that."

"To _me_, not to each other. Just make him look presentable, _please_."

"It would be my pleasure." Magnus ended the call, stole the pickle spear from Alec's plate, and said, "As soon as we're done here, you're letting me buy you expensive clothing for tomorrow night. There is no point in arguing, resistance is futile, and I will generously allow you to consume the rest of my fries if you promise to be compliant."

"'Generously'? _You_ ate _half_ of my lunch."

"I know. We really should stop ordering separate plates, it never works."

Alec sighed theatrically, but the fact remained that his lunch was gone, Magnus' wasn't, his metabolism rivaled the speed of light, and he'd finally stopped throwing up long enough to eat real food again. "I want my pickle back, too."

Magnus contemplated the pickle. Then he took a bite out of it and set it on his plate, which he pushed across the table with an angelic smile. And that was that. Alec had acquiesced to being treated like a department store mannequin with minimal grumbling and only one expression of sheer horror, after which point Magnus stopped letting him see the price tags. For his part, Magnus had behaved and didn't pick out anything ostentatious. Now, seeing the results of his hard work, he was very pleased with what he'd accomplished in such a short amount of time. The outfit itself was simple – dark blue slacks, white dress shirt, blue tie, like Isabelle had suggested – plus the long blue jacket he'd gotten in Idris. Magnus was dressed in a similar style, just with less blue. While it was rather more conservative than he was used to, he was comfortable.

Alec was not.

"This isn't exactly high fashion, darling. You can't tell me you've never worn anything like this before."

"I have." Alec's fingers twitched over the violin's fretboard, running through a silent series of notes Magnus couldn't name. He wondered if Alec was even aware that he was doing it. "When I was younger. I don't dress like this _now_ because people look at me too much every time I do."

"Of _course_ they look at you," Magnus said. He reached up and ruffled a hand through Alec's dripping hair, drying it instantly so that it curled against his collar in an un-styled yet ridiculously endearing fashion. "It's simple – you get attention when you're attractive and you dress like you _know_ you're attractive." _Or when you dress like you're always going to a rave_, he added to himself. Magnus adored attention, bathed in it like Elizabeth Báthory bathed in blood, but he'd had centuries to become accustomed to being stared at. The fact that traits like shyness and modesty did not make up a part of his personality helped.

"I don't want attention. And I'm not –"

"Do _not_ try to tell me you're not attractive, Alexander, or I will be very upset."

"I –"

In one swift, graceful movement, Magnus stood, turned around, planted his hands on either side of Alec's thighs, leaned forward, and kissed him. "I said," he murmured against his lips, "not to say you aren't attractive."

"I was going to tell you to stop calling me Alexander."

Magnus pulled back. "Oh. Well, my threat still applies. You're gorgeous and if you keep insisting otherwise, you'll have to suffer the consequences. Which will be _terrible_, I warn you." He straightened up and dusted off his slacks, which were coated in a thin layer of gray fur. Alec really needed to stop letting Church sleep on his bed.

"I'll keep that in mind." Alec set his violin aside and pushed his sleeve back to see his watch. "It's almost seven. We should probably get ready to go."

Magnus stepped away, giving him enough room to stand but not enough to have any personal space. When he got to his feet, Magnus immediately hooked his thumbs into Alec's back pockets and nuzzled his hair. "What a waste," he breathed. "I spent so much time talking you into wearing those clothes, and now all I want to do is get you out of them."

"That would be counterproductive." Face flushed, Alec twisted Magnus' silk tie in his hand and gave it a few gentle yanks. "Not to mention, my parents will kill us if we're not ready."

"Right. Can't have that. Your father already terrifies me."

"Really? What about my mom?" Alec squirmed out of Magnus' grip and looked around. "Where's my jacket?"

"You left it in the foyer. And yes, really. His hands are the size of dinner plates. I'm afraid that if I _breathe_ wrong in your direction, I'll find out what having them wrapped around my throat is like. Your mother doesn't bother me. She doesn't look at me like she's trying to think of places to store my corpse."

"How can you breathe wrong at somebody?" Alec mused, perching on the edge of the mattress to tie his shoelaces. He'd conveniently 'forgotten' to tell Magnus that he didn't own a pair of shoes that weren't used for Shadowhunting. Hopefully everyone would just think wearing dress slacks with battered steel-toed boots was some kind of fashion statement. At least they were fairly clean and not held together with duct tape, which was more than could be said for his sneakers. "And you've got it backwards, by the way," he said, standing up. "My father likes you. He thinks you're good for me. It's my mother you have to watch out for." He grabbed onto Magnus' tie again and yanked him towards the door. "Now, come on."

Pondering this new information, Magnus obediently let himself be led through the mazelike corridors of the Institute until they reached the foyer. Isabelle and Jace were already there. "Where's Clary?" Alec asked.

"On her way." Isabelle was sitting on the couch, peering closely into a pocket mirror, a tube of mascara in hand. She was the only one going without a 'date' tonight – Simon had thought it might be uncomfortable, since he didn't exactly eat human food anymore, and Isabelle hadn't wanted to ask anyone else. "She and her mom got back late from that art gallery thing, but it doesn't matter because Mom and Dad are still only half dressed. I _hate_ when I rush for no reason."

"You know, Alec," Jace said suddenly, tearing his attention from his cell phone and looking at Alec and Magnus, "I've been wondering something."

"What?"

Though his tone was perfectly innocent and casual, the smirk on his face was anything but. "It's usually girls who dress their boyfriends up, right? And you've _clearly_ got him on a leash –" He nodded to the tie Alec was still hanging onto, "– which is surprisingly dominant of you. So, I have to ask. Who's the girl in this relationship?"

Magnus – who understood the implications – thought very fast, looking for a retort that was not only devilishly clever, but would also do the impossible and shut Jace up.

Alec – who did not – saved him from having to come up with anything. Staring at Jace as if he'd inquired about the nutritional value of the carpet or something equally moronic, he rolled his eyes and said, "Neither of us is the girl. That's kind of the _point_, idiot."

For a long moment, nobody said a word. Including Jace.

And then Isabelle burst out laughing. "Wow, Jace," she giggled, flopping against the back of the couch and covering her mouth with a hand, "your face is _priceless_. I think you just got told."

Jace's stunned expression instantly blanked, but he cracked a smile seconds later. "I suppose I did. Not," he added hastily, "that I really wanted to know the answer to that question, anyway. I'm impressed, Alec, I didn't know you had it in you." His phone buzzed and he flipped it open, disinterested in them once again.

Alec looked from him to his snickering sister to Magnus. "I feel like I missed something."

Grinning, Magnus detached him from the tie and twined their fingers together. "You did, darling. Come with me." He drew Alec into a darkened, unused room a few paces down the hall, wrapped his arms around his waist, and kissed him with considerably more passion and ferocity than he had used earlier.

A very enjoyable minute passed before Alec turned his face away and said, "All right, I've figured out Jace wasn't really implying that one of us was a girl. Are you going to explain what he actually meant, or just keep trying to see how far you can get your tongue down my throat?" Magnus hiked an eyebrow. Alec promptly covered the warlock's mouth with his palm. "Don't pick the obvious choice."

Magnus pried the hand off his mouth so he could speak. "I'll tell you later," he promised, lightly brushing his lips across Alec's knuckles before letting go. "It's not something you'll want on your mind while you're at dinner with your parents."

Just outside the room, the elevator clattered to a halt, the gate scraped open, and Clary could be heard asking if she was late. Magnus was about to tune her out and continue when she said, "It took me forever to get dressed. I hate wearing dresses. Now I feel like a girl."

"Well, _somebody_ has to," Jace replied dryly. Isabelle started giggling once more.

"Maybe we should ask if we can borrow Clary for a while," Alec said quietly. He was toying with Magnus' tie again.

"Why?"

Alec glanced up at him through his eyelashes. "Well, she _is_ a girl," he said, as if that clarified everything. When Magnus blinked, he smiled, so beautifully and brilliantly that Magnus' heart skipped a beat. "Apparently we're short one."

Magnus laughed, reaching up and gently tugging at a lock of Alec's hair. "And you say you're not stunning," he whispered. "Keep smiling like that and I'm going to have competition."

Then, hoping Robert and Maryse would take their time, he leaned in again and forgot about everything else.

* * *

Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated!


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